So many things going on. Such anger, so completely obvious and in your face. It’s too much. I miss the days when we were limited to the 6:00 news and maybe a rumor that the neighbors lost their dog and we had to help find him. I grew up afraid of a few logical things. Strangers, drunk drivers and dogs. Now we all talk and spread fear through social media. We spread all our anxiety and nutty ideas. Others agree and spread it. Soon it’s posted in 24 hour news cycle and posted 50 times a day as true.

I need to escape into my world of storytelling but what story do I tell? Relevant to the world around me or making something up. I am building a world of taur creatures in my art world at Can connect these worlds?

There is an artist connected to a great show called Tales from the Loop. Where Swedish artist Simon Stålenhag brings his artwork to life. It’s amazing to see his work on the screen. Simon attaches a story to his work. I would love to do the same but all the work I have up to now lives in semi-separate worlds.

It’s certainly on my mind and as I move through this new (minus City of Zombie) world it will effect it.

The Minotaurs

So, this starts my new attempt to write everyday. It’s partially free writing with minimal edits. I want to get words on screen. It will not be eloquent or perfect but hope it will be fun.

I just happen to be doing it in the bathroom of the church next to my house.

There is a story in this situation I am currently in… huge… well maybe not huge. What happened you ask?

First, I should mention that we are Minotaur. Huge bi-pedal creatures with bovine heads. Big muscular thighs to hold our oversized heads. (Just to note something irrelevant) The women are larger then the men, so imagine my fright when she stormed into the bathroom when I was brushing my facial hair.

“Daniel,” she boomed. “Who is this?”

She thrust the picture of a very attractive cow in my face. She had a thick brown color with strips of black along the right-side of her face.

I stepped back and fell into the toilet. The poor ceramic thing burst with my sudden weight… but wait there’s more…

She laughed. A riotous laughter. She thought frightening me was the funniest thing. That was until I skillfully trip her causing her to tumble into the sink and the tub.

So, now I type this from a strangers toilet

NBC’s Hannibal

I need to write something.  I want to continue with my re-edit but I just can’t.  I’m really distracted.  Television, of course, is part of my problem right now.  NBC’s Hannibal is so vivid and emotion-driven that it robs the creativity from the air.  I’m just drawn to the show and have no idea whats going to happen next.

The use of color in this series is unprecedented.  I’ve never actually seen anything like this.  Unfortunately, the series is scheduled to end after this summer.  I heard a rumor that it may have a life on Netflix or Amazon but that’s never certain.


As a writer I’m always poking around inside my head.  I’ve always wondered what happens within the head of a killer like Hannibal and I think this show does a wonderful job but it’s also so complicated.  The stories overlapping and also branching out in mysterious ways.  I forget the name of this current killer.  It’s part of the Silence of the Lambs movie.. ah.. I remember, I think, Buffalo Bill?  Right?  …. But there was another killer in that movie but I don’t remember his name.

Uh Oh.. This guy is starting to lose it.  😦

Looks like the lady with him may live another day.  This killer is so lost in his own head, as a lot of killers seem to be on the movies/tv.

Unfortunately, I will miss part of this but that’s ok… life moves on..

Thanks for listening to my little commentary on Hannibal.  I successfully wrote something today which is wonderful 🙂  This blog is the best thing going for my writing.  It forces me to just type and stop judging my material.

Alright, have a good night.

Ugh… (Release the prisoners)


I am having such a hard time here.  Such a busy week.  I missed my Wednesday and Friday deadline and Today I just have no motivation 😦

I’m working on the rewrite and I have a good scheme but its just slow to  come.

Here is the plan.  The guards are putting the prisoners into the gated prison five at a time.  The infected are hanging unusually close to the gate causing extra stress.  I think I’m just lost in stress and trying to do too much.

Here is my vision at the moment:  The prisoners stand at a long steel fence.  Outside the fence is the militia and inside the fence is a tall, grassy wonderland of cannibals.  They currently sit within the grass waiting for victims to approach.

“Why are they sitting?”  It’s a good question… Maybe they are tired of standing?

“All the predators in the world sit, right?”

Right, I think it’s reasonable to assume that infected, zombie-like monsters sit.

Anyways, the prisoners cannot see the infected till its too late so the first group to go runs as the others, outside the fence, watch.  They leave separate beaten down trails as one trail stops suddenly then another.  The prisoners disappear into the grass.  This leaves the rest of the prisoners, even some guards stuck.  Their feet glued to the ground.  The Sergeant of the Guard shouts, kindly smacking the silent adhesive from the guards feet and they push forward the next group.

“How can they sentence a child to death?”  Erik asks.  The others around Erik stay silent, a fact that Erik still struggled to deal with.  A guard walked past the group.  Erik spoke up and asked about the girl.

“She is part of a burglary family,” the guard says.

“She is only a child.”

The guard stopped.  His face blushed and his lips were held tight.  “The young girl has no other family.  She will not survive outside the walls.  Would you take her from her family?”  The guard then walked away.  Erik watched the Summers family and the others wait for the gate to open.  Another guard grabbed five others and waited.

Erik stood waiting with four others.  They stood near the gate when it opened to let in the Summers family and the others.  Three guards surrounded the group of prisoners as they entered the gate.  One guard, front and the others on each side.  They swung left and right nervously as they stepped forward.  The gate closed and the guards secured it.  Moments later, the front guard fired the first shot.  An infected woman, her blackened face growling fell backward.  The shot was followed by a second then a barrage of shots as the infected stood.

The guards separated from the group of prisoners, but not before Steve Summers grabbed the front guards rifle.  The guard fought back throwing a meaty fist into the chest of the older man but released the rifle when an infected man became too close.  The other two guards sprinted to the gate only to be stopped by four infected.  One of the guards fired to the left.  The bullets escaped through the infected head and toward the others outside the gate.  Erik fell to the ground followed by the other prisoners still strapped together.

The other guards returned fire and downed the remaining infected along with the two guards.  They opened the gate and grabbed the wounded guards and helped them into the gate.  More infected appeared within the grass.  The Sergeant of the Guard ordered the automated guns toward the infected.  After the first shot the group within the walls ran as fast as they could away from the carnage.

“Alright, alright!”  Said the Sergeant.  “If we want to get out of here alive we need to release the other prisoners.”

The guard closest began to release a large black man to Erik’s left.  The man towered over Erik and many of the others.  Once the leather straps were off he moved to Erik’s right and began to release the others.  Erik expected the large black man to move, or to try to escape but he did not.  He stood, just as he had been.

“Stop! Stop! You idiot.  Release them in the walls not out here.”  The guard stopped.  The other guards pointed their rifles at the prisoners.

“Move them all out!”  The guards shoved Erik and the others.  The automatic guns fired above until nothing moved within the field inside the walls.

“Turn off the guns and open the gate.  Screw guiding them.”

The gate opened slowly.  The first five stepped into the walls followed by Erik and the others.


I wanted to address Same-ness and the relation to the identity crisis we are currently having in the US.

The problem is human nature’s desire for Same-ness.  we naturally want everything and everyone to be the same.  I understand this because it works for me too.  I don’t want anyone with a different opinion or a different way of life.  It causes conflict.  All the wars in history came down to a difference of opinion.  So the desire for Same-ness is perfectly logical.  Now:

The United States of America grew from our desire to be different.  We rejected that Same-ness.  We wanted the freedom to be different.  We are still different.  I am a huge fan of British shows.  I listen to the perception of Americans and it is consistently ‘different’.  The ‘Americans’ do this and that.. this is who we are.  We are different.  We do what we want.

Human nature is currently pulling us back to this notion that it’s better to be the same.

– We must have the same religious values.

– We must all be the same race, or at least act alike.

– We must talk the same and think the same

The United States is not the same.  We are a melt of nations.  Hundreds of different thoughts.  This is what makes us great.  This is the country that we built.  Our founders built this country, not off of religion, gender or race.  It was built to promote Freedom.  We are all free to be different.

Stand up and be different.  It’s ok.  It’s who we are

Thanks for listening


New Task – World of my Artwork


So I was able to complete my 1st draft of City of Zombies.  It was really a test for how far I could go and whether I could finish anything.  I think it went well and I am now in the editing phase.  Next task will be to work on my Art.  It has really been ignored for the last couple years.  So the plan is to do the same thing.  Every Wednesday I will work on some picture using art from Pinterest

I will not pressure myself to finish it in one day.  The only rule is to work on it.  I still have to post every Wednesday so I will likely post about it.  Pictures of my progress may come every week or every other week.

My writing has not stopped and I need to continue to make progress with my novel and new work.  There is a bug in my ear regarding the Long Black Train.  I’ve been wanting to work on that and expand.

This will require some major world building, which I’m still working on.  City of Zombies was also a world builder exercise but I was able to base it off of things I see everyday.  The world of the Long Black Train is dark and filled with magic and monsters.  Mythology of a huge source of material for a writer.  Many of the monsters are based off them.  The Long Black Train is no different but my question is:

Is there a lack of originality because I use mythology?   Just like the Man tests I deal with all day long.  Does mythology make me less of a writer like dressing in pink could make me less than a man?  (Note: My comparison is  tongue in cheek)

Tongue in cheek?  What does that mean?

Apparently the tongue in cheek was an indication of contempt.  Still not sure what that would look like but oh well..

The picture above… I got lost in a tangent…

So standby for updates on my new task, my new writing and general thoughts..


Ah!! Writer’s block

AH!  I have writer’s block.  😦

I’m trying too hard.  I have a lot of noise.  My girls are bugging me.  Anything to explain away the fact that I have no way to explain what happens when you’re stuck in a field of grass with zombies.  I have rewritten it in my head and I think it sucks.  I made some changes to the post before it and it’s thrown everything into chaos.

This is an attempt to free-write my way into the sunset on the other side of the moon.

Stuck in the grass with hungry sub-humans eating your neighbors. What a terrifying thought but where are the words?  Basically, my story is now stuck… No forward progress.  I’m really going to have to go back a few to regain this.  .. … ….


Unhappy 😦

The Trials of the Century

I’m so stressed out.  I need to write some things off my chest.  I’m quickly realizing how much I am like my father.  Trying to teach my daughters to be respectful but getting a face full of disrespect because I’m old fashion.  At least that my guess.  Being a little respectful, is that old fashion.  Holding off on the swearing.  Refusing to use derogatory terms.  It’s like I am on the outside screaming “Come on.”  or even on the inside trapped in a world that wants to spread hatred and disrespect everywhere.

I was going to go on but I hate doing this crap…. the belly aching.. On to a story…

The Trials of the Century ———-

Jim stepped forward hands shackled to a loop in the waist of his pants.

“Mister Crow, do you understand the charges.”

Jim Crow stood staunch and defiant.

“I don’t have to speak to you.  I have the right to be silent.”

“You also have the right to say whatever you want,” reminded the judge as he prepared for the stiff rebuttal.

“Yes, I do,” stated Jim as he growled.

“Mr. Crow, you have spent years festering within the community.  Your reign of terror spreading like a cancer.  Your actions separating the bipedal human community into haves and have-not.  I sentence you to Shut the Hell up!!”

The judge then stood, grabbed the desk that sat in front of him and tossed it into the air.  It floated slowly over the head of the court appointed attorney and eventually landed within the empty seats of the juror.  The crash of the wood shook everyone within the court room but when the eyes returned to the judges desk it had reappeared.

“Bailiff take this man away.”  A large man, dressed in black walked quickly toward Jim Crow.  His frame spread large against the smaller man and the lawyer.  The Bailiff grabbed Jim Crow and dragged him from the room.

“Next up!”  The judge stood.  Towering over the room.  He then shrank as a man dressed in a sharp suit and tie stood in the center of the room.  Christian was shackled similarly to Jim Crow and stood shoulders straight and confident.

“Do you understand the charges?”

Christian looked upon the judge and said confidently.  “I only have one judge.  You hold no power over me.”

The judge paused.  His lip grumbled slightly.  He then slapped a meaty hand upon the desk and said.  “I hold no power over you?  You are not in need of any judgement within this courtroom.  You have held my position for years.  Judge, juror and executioner.  You stand over the others in the world holding your arrogant point of view.  Judging others before your jaded views.  Your book tells you to judge none.  Treat others as you would like to be treated but you continue to hover over others.  A beacon of what is right to do.”

Christian stood silent.  Lips sealed tightly.

“Bailiff, remove this person.  I have nothing else to say to this man.”  The large man dressed in black stood and approached Christian.  He grabbed the man by the shoulder and lead him from the room.  “Next!”  Shouted the judge.

Next to the enter the court was a tall man.  His head hidden and his arms shackled near the front of a large white robe.

“What is the defendants name?”  Ordered the judge.  The words erupting from his powerful throat.  The Bailiff stood and spoke.  His voice measured.  “The defendant has declared no name, judge.”

“Interesting,” the judge says as he studies the defendant.  He inspects the robe and the darkness under the hood.  “Have you declared no face and no existence?”

The defendant shifts slightly then speaks clearly.  “I will be respected.  Even by you.”

The judge turns his head slightly.  “You feel slighted by me?  You feel I’ve no respect for you?  I’ve never met you.  I don’t know who you are?  How can you declare I have a lack of respect?”

The man stands quiet.

“Do you understand the charges?”  Asks the judge.

“I do not.”

“Ah!” The judge sat back.  “Finally, an honest answer.  Bailiff bring the other into the court room.  Within moments all three men stood in front of the judge.  Jim Crow, Christian and ‘the man that would not be named’.

“You will all be charged with arrogance, hate mongering, murder, rape and allowing the bipedal human race an opportunity to spread the insanity of your thoughts.  With this charge a sentence is returned.  You will be instructed to watch from above as your followers destroy what is left of the human race.  You will be forced to observe the failures and successes of each.”

The small lawyer steps forward.  “Judge, this is unjust.  Can the defendants do anything to avoid this sentence?”

The judge stands and the lawyer winces.  The judge walks from the desk and down to the floor of the courtroom.  “My friend,” he says to the lawyer.  “The world is full of wonderful people, religions and thoughts.  These defendants will not allow the freedom to view all that is wonderful in this world.  They are terrified that lack of judgement will make them irrelevant.  To treat everyone justly will force the hand of an imperfect human race to do what is unexpected and figure out how to do things right.  These defendants do not have the confidence to allow the voice within us all to do what’s right.  This, my friend, is why they cannot avoid this sentence.”

The judge then turned and stepped back up to the desk.  “Bailiff take them away to watch their own handy work.  Let me know if it all works out.”

City of Zombies – The Beginning – Re-write

I am working on a second draft of City of Zombies.  I will update every time but if you are ever interested in how it’s going it will be posted in Wattpad.

I will continue to add to my first draft every Wednesday until I finish but I wanted to give everyone an update.  Also, I have a couple shorts in the blog hopper that I hope to put out sometime soon.

The Beginning

Have a great day